Wandering Black Cloud
by Mr. Koiwai
Summary: Dr. Facilier is brought back from the dead. Mama Odie tells him what he truely needs. But the Shadowman couldn't agree less. Rated M for violent deaths and possible disturbing themes.


He has been falling or quite some time. After several hours, he numbly decided he was never going to reach the bottom- that he was doomed to fall in this empty place for eternity. But this did not alarm him; as a man of illusions and trickery, he feels almost comfortable in the atmosphere of darkness.

Sitting on the emptiness of the universe, falling, falling, his arms wrapped around his knees, his head bowed over his trembling body, Dr. Facilier locks himself inside his head, reflecting on the memories of his short and unfulfilling life.

Around him is literally dead silence: He cannot even hear his heart beating. In fact, he isnt even sure if it is anymore. He feels cold in this isolated place. He hugs his knees closer against his chest.

As sudden as thunder, a deep, impatient voice speaks, the sound-waves dropping like dead rats in test-tubes as soon as the words are said- darkness swallowing them up: "Tell me, Shadowman."

A faint smile appears on the man's lips. He inclines his head to pretend he isnt listening.

The voice continues: "Who would sacrifice their own life for one such as you? Who would leave their own world and trade it for an eternity in the hell I have made for you?"

Dr. Falicier's eyes close. His smile remains.

"Banish this hope within you, Shadowman, because what you call yourself is exactly what you are: You are a black cloud that clings so desperately to the ground; you hide from the light at all costs, baring your fangs of steel at those with a shred of innocence inside them."

His shoulders begin to shake slightly, up and down, in quiet, surpressed laughter.

Igoring this, the voice says, "So I ask once more..."

His knuckles turn pale as his hands grip tightly onto his legs. Soft, squeaks of laughter escapes his mouth. His eyes open, tears whelling in them from a mix of depression and hope.

"Why do you resist Death, when no one will is willing to save you from it?"

At last, he can stand it no longer; throwing his head back, Dr. Falicier laughs into the emptiness, every sound being snatched away and eaten by unseen demons.

...

The weather is bleak, yet promises of sun-shine are what bring the one known as Mama Odie out of her slumber and into New Orleans. She is heading towards the local grave-site, where royal families, poor families, and cursed men are all made equal under the dirt and ashes of death.

This woman is on a mission: To save a guilty dead man and allow him to redeem himself among the living.

Four long weeks have passed since the Shadowman was forced into his grave by the "friends from the Other Side." And to Mama Odie, it just isn't right. It had been bothering her for days now, and it was time she did something about it.

"...not his fault he got himself in a bad bit of trouble, eh?" the old woman says as she walks her snake-cane towards their destined grave-site.

Once there, she rests her back against a tombstone with a loud sigh, settling down into the grass. "Oooh, that was a terribly long walk!"

Beside her, the snake loosens himself out and begins to move from side-to-side in the grass, its tongue flickering, finding an easy prey.

"Eh?" she jerks her head in the direction of the snake, her black, sightless eyes piercing into the face-engraved tombstone of Dr. Facilier. "What're you up to...?" she mutters to the mute, screaming face of stone.

Thinking she's talking to him, the snake abandons its chase of a small mouse and rolls its body back to its owner.

"You're right." The woman gives the snake a serious nod. "Time to go to work!" Mama Odie stands up suddenly. "Cant be wastin' daylight just cause my feet are achin'!" Without warning, she reaches over and snatches the snake by its throat, stretching out its body until it points outwards like a sword.

The snake blinks, dazed, its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

Her face screwing up in concentration, the old woman bats the top of Dr. Facilier's tomb and says loudly, "Open up, I says! And listen good and listen well!" Green, red, blue- symbols written in shades of colors flicker int he sky, creating a powerful speal.

Mama Odie opens her cracked lips and shouts, "One chance of life is what I grant; one chance is it- or else it's death!" Sweat prickles along her face. "Awake and live until the end!"

With a vivid blast of green and orange light, the tombstone breaks open like a cracked egg, spilling out a man instead of yolk.

"Wheeew..." the old woman falls back against the ground, panting. A frail hand reaches up to feel her heart beat frantically against her palm. "That took a lot out of me..." she told the snake.

Blinking, the Shadowman rises from the ground, his eyes surrounded by halos of dark blue. "I heard a woman's voice..." he whispered, his own voice weak, his eyes glazed over with wonder. "It called me back from...-" he cuts himself off, seeing Mama Odie laying on the ground, looking pleased with herself. Brushing his hair back with one hand, pointing a finger at her with the other, he says, "You, old woman! You saved me, did you not?"

"Aye." replies the elder, giving her snake a pat on the head. "We did."

"...why?" he demands, his tone unwelcoming.

"The way I see it, you had no fault: It was the Others who black-mailed you- threatened your very life- if you did not give them the souls of this city. Am I right?"

Dr. Facilier says nothing, dropping his hands to his sides.

Mama Odie stands up, smiling at the man. "We are all good people. We just each have our own ways of survival. Ways we always think are the best for us, even if they seem bad to the people around ya." She places a firm hand on top of the snake's head, using it as a cane now. "I've given you a second chance so you can live a life of good-intentions, a life where you wont have to be bad to get what you need. Because you've always had it."

There is a strong hint of hope, of pleading, in his words: "Have I...?" asked the man quietly.

"It was love." replis the elder.

The earth drops out from under his feet; once again, the Shadowman is in his personal hell, falling out of existance, every memory erasing, buring up like paper before his eyes: There is no hope for him now. Nothing matters; he did not get the answer he longed for, so he rejected the woman's words wih every fiber of his being...!

"Dr. Facilier...?" muses the old woman, waving a bony hand infront of his face. No response. "Maybe I drug ya out of there too late..."

No. There is hope. Hope lies in the blood of the ones who first decieved him: The Prince and that woman. No- not jsut them...the world. How dare they not accept who he is? How dare they brand him as being like everyone else- belieiving love can solve all his problems? He is not like them. He is...

A black cloud.

He loves no one but himself. He deems himself more important than anyone else in the world. His purpose...is to live.

With a jolt, the man snatches the woman's wrist tightly in his hand. When she struggles and tries to back off out of fear, he firmly digs his other hand into her side, bruising her ribcage.

"Oow! Awhh!" she cries out in pain, twisting like a worm on a hook.

"I thank you now for saving my life, old woman, but for you to think _I_ need love?" he begins to laugh, his hands clinching angrily into her body. He stops laughing abruptly, his expression dark. "Love is only a feeling that dies with age. Like you."

"Whaaw...!" she groans. "What has made you this way?" With shaking hands, she tries to conquore up some power to send him back to his grave- or transport herself elsewhere. But she is weakening.

"...Daddy didn't_ believe _in me." answers the man hatefully. With that, he releases the woman. As she stumbles backwards, he raises his hand, curling it into a fist. His lips curl upwards in a snarl of rage.

It only takes one hit to knock her out.

But after twenty more, she is dead.

Her face is no longer a face: Smashed in and red all over-... it is better not to use your imagination.

Turning away, he summons up his hat from nothing. He places it on, fingers lightly tracing the rim, adjusting it. Turning on his heels, turn walks in the direction of the town, where a very successful restaurant waits for him.

With an unsually loud hissy sound, the snake launches itself out of hiding. It manages to sink its non-poisonous fangs into the man's left arm before getting peeled off and thrown tot he ground.

Stunned, all the snake is able to do is flicker it's tonuge once more before the heel of the man's shoe breaks into it's skull. Small bits of purplish brain splatters across the grass, followed by a thick ooze of blood.


End file.
